Beyond the fabulous polyester robes and cool Instagram filtered altars, the artisanal candles made from petroleum and paraffin, the exotic crystals gouged out of the living Earth in some strip-mined hellscape, the endless bleached-paper books repeating variations on the same theme, the server farms powering blogpost bickering…

Where is the sacred? Where is the real?

A religion that focuses on tools is a religion of materialism.

A religion that focuses on other worlds is a religion that denies this world.

A religion whose central feature is a cis-hetero-fertile god and goddess is a religion that casts other genders and sexualities as less than.

A religion that promises impossible things is a religion of fantasy.

A religion that worships an abstraction is useless.

Where is the sacred? Where is the real?

Not found in books, nor tools, nor teachers, nor gods.

Religion is a construct. The sacred is beyond constructs.

Gender is a label. The sacred is beyond label.

Gods are representations. The sacred is beyond representation.

Words are limited. The sacred is beyond limits.

The supernatural is a fantasy. The sacred is nature in all its wonder and all its horror.

Beyond the comfortable fences we build to feel safe, the sacred waits.

In the silence when all words have been spoken, the sacred waits.

When all our fine tools and clothes and books and cities and religions are turned to dust, the sacred waits.